Yarne's Dilemma
by LittlefootWentBoom
Summary: Yarne is not competitive by nature, but when he suddenly finds himself growing fonder of Ylisse's star tactician, he can't help but become agitated with this stupid bet the Shepherds have going on. And in his humble Taguel opinion, the benefits of competing have now far outweighed the risks.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all! First off, I'm amazed you even opened this! Yarne was my absolute favorite character and I'm kind of surprised that not many other people adore him as much as I do, but I digress. This story has been SO much fun for me and I have decided to share it with anyone that wishes to read it. Please, if you enjoy this unfortunately short first chapter, then put this story on your alert list because I have no plans of giving it up until it is complete. Chapter 2, 4, and part of 5 are in the editing process (no idea why 3 isn't even started yet) and it is shaping up to be a true delight in my eyes. I look forward to sharing this story for any and all of those who wish to read it, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I have.**

**Mandatory disclaimer: I own nothing. Nada. Just the plot line is of my own creation.**

**Now, since this IS a fully fledged story, Robin/the avatar is a CHARACTER. She has a personality all her own and her name is Kinley. I hope you like getting to know her, and I'm sorry if it's annoying to some, but as I said, this is a story. As for the rating and contents, it is going to be T but with some language and humorous sexual themes, which means no youngins' allowed! Thank you for reading. **

**Onwards!**

…

Chapter 1: In Which Yarne Believes He Is About To Die 

Yarne wasn't competitive by nature.

Being the last surviving member of an entire race tended to put pressure on a guy to, well, stay alive. And staying alive usually involved no friendly (or otherwise) competitions of any sort, because if he were to fall while racing up that impossibly tall tree?

BOOM. Instant extinction.

And we couldn't have that now could we?

Nope!

It didn't matter if he was likely to win due to his inhuman speed and superb reflexes, he refused to compete or play any type of possibly dangerous games. While the rest of the army's men (and often a few of the women) attempted to prove they were the manliest of all men, Yarne preferred to sit back against a tree and watch the competitions from afar… in the safety and comfort of soft grass and cool shade and far away from pointy spears and strong fists. Which was how it should be! A Taguel never needlessly put themselves in danger, preferring a relaxing afternoon spent sunbathing with friends and a soothing cup of tea. Unfortunately, this trait seemed to be unique to Yarne amongst his friends since they all seemed to prefer bashing each other's heads in or, in Inigo's case, chasing after fair maidens who would much rather give him a black eye instead of the time of day.

But that was all well and good anyways, since he truly did relish his quiet afternoons lazing around and enjoying the painfully amusing show of brawn and deflated egos the army had to offer daily. Or at least, he used to enjoy them.

Until Kinley began to join him.

That's when things became complicated.

...…...

The first impression he ever had of Kinley was when she'd gone to swing a horrendously sharp blade at his head and she'd missed by only the barest of threads, leading Yarne to instantaneously give up on every notion of fleeing and instead fall to his knees to beg for his pathetic and despairingly minute bunny life.

He'd made an effort to completely avoid her ever since.

So the first time she joined him under a tree he found it rather awkward, having the army's star tactician and his almost-executioner sitting cross-legged in the grass not more than a foot away from him, striking up conversation with the graceful ease of a damn swan and smiling at him like she had not a care in the world. He had only been with the army for a week and she was so vastly different from how she was when they met on the battlefield that he wondered more than once whether she had multiple people living inside her head, although he was admittedly a little afraid to wonder that one aloud, lest it be true and ending up being fried alive as consequence.

Without letting his guard down, he continued to stare at the ground and plucked little blades of grass, weaving them together in a pattern he wasn't paying much attention to, as he listened to Kinley talk about what a beautiful day it was, how amazing it was that Cordelia and Sumia and even little Cynthia could fly high into the sky on such beautiful creatures and look so graceful and radiant, she herself was much too frightened of heights to ever attempt such a feat, and oh dear, did you see that uppercut Chrom got in? Vaike is certainly going to be one sore soldier tomorrow!

After a small chuckle on Vaike's behalf, her self-sustained chatter continued for a long while, causing Yarne to become somewhat curious about this eternally optimistic woman. Sometime during her commentator dialogue of the increasingly brutal match taking place between men nearby, she had shifted her position to stretch out in the grass and lie comfortably on her stomach, chin buoyed up between manicured fingers, and Yarne took the opportunity to inconspicuously study the peculiar woman before him. Her voice was soft and light, not at all like the gruff (and petrifying) tone she had used during their first encounter, though that wasn't entirely surprising considering back then she had been on a bloody rampage, not snoozing away under a tree like she was now. Besides her superhuman destructive power, the hair was what he thought most peculiar, flowing down her back and being a bleached white that bordered on silver shining in the sunlight. A humorous picture popped into his mind of one Kinley and a bloody Henry, playing hokey pokey with a group of equally bright-haired children obviously their own… On second thought, maybe that picture wasn't so humorous.

That pair would make for some downright _terrifying_ children.

He had to suppress a shudder.

Yarne had never pegged himself as a shy Taguel, but with Kinley, the famous Ylissean tactician and _insanely_ strong warrior, chatting him up like he was one of her best friends, he just did not have any clue what to say! What could she, one of the greatest magicians of the age with a near genius IQ, possibly have in common with him, a bunny soldier who would prefer to hide in a hole rather than actually fight?

And that train of thought was probably what led him to blurt out the first thing that came to mind.

"Usually by now people start petting me."

Oh now he _really_ wanted to go hide in a hole.

When her commentary went silent and she turned around to regard him, his cheeks flushed what felt to be a dark ruby and he was sure she was about to chop his head off with some sort of genius ninja bunny-roasting technique, but whatever he thought she would say or do, he wasn't exactly prepared for her to suddenly burst into a sidesplitting laughter so deep it was as if he had just told her the funniest joke in existence. And he may very well have, for over a minute later she remained clutching her sides and her laughter hadn't let up. He could see people from over by the tents beginning to stare at the two of them, no doubt amused by their tactician's infectious change of mood. Momentarily forgetting his grass weaving, Yarne snuck a glance at Kinley, only to be met by her own gaze beaming at him. She choked down the last of her giggles and unceremoniously wiped a fair amount of tears from her blue eyes before she reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

"Yarne," she said while obviously trying to hold back more giggles, "I think you are going to fit in just perfect here."

Eyes following her as she stood up and stretched her arms above her head, he thought he may have worn a rather stupid and dumbstruck look on his face. Though if he did she said nothing, only crouched down to fix him with one of her biggest grins and gently ruffle his hair with her palm.

And then she was gone, leaving a very confused and a slightly-more-cheerful-than-before Yarne in her wake.

Looking back, that was almost certainly where his whole problem began.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: First off, wow, thank you to all of you who left reviews, put this story on your alert list, and, holypooponapopsicle, ADDED IT TO YOUR FAVORITES! I never expected this many people to read and I can honestly tell you that every single time the little ding went off on my phone and I saw it was because of you guys… well, I squealed. And truthfully? I cried a bit because it made me feel happier than I have in a long time. Kind of pathetic, but oh wells! So thank you, to all of you who read this, I am forever indebted to you. I hope this story will live up to all of your expectations. Here we begin to get into the real chapters!**

**Also, some of you may not see the group of future kids as I do, because I think they are like any other group of hormonal young adults out there. They laugh, they love, and most importantly, they're scared and hormonal in the middle of a war! And we all know what that means… :P**

…

Chapter 2: In Which Yarne Almost Dies

The second time Kinley spent her afternoon with him it was still quite awkward, though admittedly much less so than before, since this time Yarne actually spoke back.

Only a few days had passed since their last encounter (unless you counted the day previously when she had flashed him with a huge smile and a wink from across the mess hall, which resulted in one Brady being absolutely convinced that the tactician and Yarne _already _had some sort of secret relationship going on, never mind the obvious rank differences) and the Shepherds were on the move once more, no doubt marching to some new and frighteningly dangerous land full of merciless bandits, unpredictable weather, and not to mention probably entirely overflowing with sharp rocks just waiting for him to accidentally step on…

"Hey!"

Nearly jumping out of his skin and ready to flee from whatever new threat now accosted him, he relaxed (only slightly) when he saw that his maybe-murderer was merely Kinley, who was not surprisingly armed with a cheesy grin and looked about as wary of this new world as a turtle floating languidly down a river, which is to say, not at all.

She bounded up to him, the stark white of her hair bouncing along with her and standing bright against the harsh desert colors of the landscape. When she settled into step alongside him he suspiciously eyed the thick book in her arms, whose binding appeared to be within seconds of peeling off. Wait a minute, an old book the size of his head and about to fall apart? Gotta be an ancient tome, and those things are known for spontaneous combustion! Quick, take cover!

Before he was able to run away screaming in fear, a snigger from behind caused Yarne to shoot a look over his shoulder, glaring when he found a red-headed Brady smirking at him with a knowing glint in his eye. Trust Brady to always think he knows something you don't! Yarne rolled his eyes at him and turned back to Kinley, readjusting his pack without missing a step, and attempted to reply with as much enthusiasm as she showed.

"Hiiiiii," he deadpanned.

…Nailed it.

She raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth to speak but was cut off when Brady, like always, stepped in to save the day.

"Heya, Kinely!" He saluted, staff in hand. "What brings ya over here to this fine corner of the world?"

Thankfully, her grin returned in full force and she saluted the sage back. "Hello, Brady! I just popped over to see how our newest recruit was handling the stresses of war. And, as is my obligatory duty, to get all the nitty-gritty details of his life up to this point." Tilting her head to the side, she tapped her finger on the overly large book in her arms. "Like… what's your favorite color, Yarne?!"

Yarne blinked. "Huh?"

Beside him, Brady chuckled and clapped him on the back with an enormous hand. "I can answer that one!" he yelled, leaning in front of Yarne to dramatically wave his hands in the air. "Bright, flowery PINK!"

The Taguel groaned and moved his fingers to his temples, already beginning to feel the all-too familiar headache that came along with his childhood friend's pestering. Being away from Brady for so long after being around him nearly all his life had been a very strange, but not altogether unwelcome, vacation. However, he couldn't deny that he was now extremely happy to once again be back in Brady's company, and though it wouldn't be admitted out loud, the huge hug (as well as buckets of tears) that Yarne received upon reuniting with his friend and the fact that the sage refused to leave his side for days afterwards spoke volumes.

Kinley giggled and flung open her book, instantly conjuring a quill out of one of the endless pockets of her robe, and quickly flipped through the pages before settling on her intended mark. "Ahhhhh, here we go!" She looked up at Yarne, her blue eyes sparkling with apparent delight. Her flamboyant personality and unending joy, even in the face of war and death, puzzled him to no end. How was it that she managed to be so unafraid? What a strange woman… The tactician clicked her tongue and brought his attention back before he tripped over his own feet. "So…" she continued, "Is pink really your favorite color then?" The amusement was clear behind her eyes.

"…No?" Yarne offered, and was met with more feminine giggles in response. "Why do you need to know my favorite color anyway?"

"Oh, this?" Kinley shut her book with a bang and held it out for him to read the cover:

_Everything You Ever Need To Know About The Ylissean Special Forces…. And Then Some!_

He gaped.

"Yup! She's got everything about everyone written down right in that little book there," Brady laughed and waggled his eyebrows. "Eeeeeeeverything."

"Doesn't look so little to me," Yarne mumbled back, out of Kinley's range.

"Oh hush!" Kinley quipped as she mock punched Brady's bicep. "Just because _you_ take such an interest in everyone's secret sexual escapades doesn't mean I do as well! You know, most people wouldn't dare to go out searching for scandals late at night, let alone keep track of it all in their personal diary. You, my dear Brady, are one dirty old pervert. And you're not even thirty yet! Must be all those raging hormones…"

While Brady was left sputtering and desperately trying to make up some sort of excuse for his newly exposed delinquent behavior, the tactician hooked her arm through Yarne's own and led him far away (though definitely not far enough) from The Great Perverted Sage Brady.

Somehow, Yarne thought that would make a great cautionary tale one day.

"Isn't Severa usually with the two of you?" Kinley asked as she nimbly pulled him through the ranks of soldiers. "Where has she gotten off to, anyway?"

"She's probably trying to assert her dominance over Minerva," Yarne replied, forcing down a chuckle. "Again."

Kinley didn't feel the need to hide her amused laughter. "Ah, then that would make this, what, the twenty-eighth time?"

"Somewhere around that."

After a couple minutes of only slightly uncomfortable strolling, the pair settled into pace on the outer edge of the marching army, earning more than a few quizzical looks from fellow soldiers, and possibly an arched eyebrow from a nearby Panne. The younger Taguel was still getting used to the fact that his mother was completely alive and well in this day and age, and he couldn't help but to feel constantly scrutinized by her. Not that he could really blame her though, considering it wasn't every day that your son from twenty-some odd years in the future comes to visit you. "Hey Mom, look at me! Right now I'm still very much contained in one of your ovaries and in dad's balls, but look, I'm from the future and here for the holidays anyways! I brought cake!" doesn't usually tend to go over as nicely as one might think.

Suddenly his arm in Kinley's felt quite warm and awkward. "So, hey, uh, Kinley," he said as he deftly pulled away to scratch the back of his head.

"Hmm?"

Chewing the inside of his cheek and without removing his gaze from the dusty horizon, he asked, "Does that mean you have pages in there on my mom and dad?"

The smile she returned was gentle and kind, and a good deal too knowing for his liking. Without saying a word she thumbed through the pages before landing on one with a beautifully detailed drawing of Yarne's own mother and he craned his neck over to look at it, making sure not to move any closer to Kinley. On the page next to Panne's portrait was a thorough and full biography on the Taguel woman, noting all of her adventures up to this point in time, and even an account delicately describing the horrors of her entire race being slaughtered. Panne's whole life was confined to this single page, immortalizing her, and anyone who ever wanted to know anything about the powerful woman that was his mother would only need look here, in this book, to learn how far her bravery stretched, how past her gruff exterior lay a heart overflowing with compassion, and how deep the love was that she and his father shared. In a word, Yarne was awestruck.

His fingers grazed the page over Panne's portrait. How he had missed her…

Kinley drew him out of his daze when she put a reassuring hand on his arm. "You have one amazing mother, Yarne," she said.

He cleared his throat and drew his arm back to his side, again scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "Yeah," he replied, gazing off into the distance thoughtfully. "I just wish she had still been alive in my time. I mean, the Panne here and the one from my time are the same, yeah, but at the same time… they aren't, you know?"

Kinley nodded, her tied up hair falling silently over one shoulder. "I understand. I can imagine how jarring it must be for you to have her in your life once more."

A smile crept onto Yarne's face at the thought. "Yeah. It is kinda weird. Especially when she scolds me, because with her being younger it's not anywhere near as scary as it used to be!"

By now most of the army had marched straight past them, and Yarne hadn't even noticed that he and Kinley had stopped marching along with them. It was late afternoon and the sun was near setting, causing the sky to swirl in pastels of blue and pink that cast Kinley in a soft glow that made her shine beautifully. Forgetting his manners, he openly gawked at her. With the light of the dimming sun reflecting off her hair and that warm, inviting smile of hers, she didn't seem as frightening as she once had. She just seemed like another potential friend… albeit one who was also coincidentally distractingly attractive.

And it didn't hurt that she simply _exuded_ safety, either.

"So, Bunnyboy, just what IS your favorite color?" She asked as she turned the pages of her book once more until they rested on a clean, blank page. When she looked back up and smiled at him, he found himself smiling back easily and his spirits suddenly lifted.

"You're not going to draw me, are you?" he asked playfully.

She gave him a teasing frown. "Maybe, if you'd stop avoiding me long enough for me to get a good look at you."

Had he been that obvious?

"I'm not avoi-! I mean…! You almost made me extinct! What was I supposed to- Ow! Hey! What was that for?"

A look of ornery triumph crossed her face before she shouted, "For thinking I'm going to try and kill you in your sleep! And don't deny it; I can see it in your eyes!" She then turned and stalked off after the rest of the Shepherds, book in hand.

"Yeah, because you almost just poked one of them out with your fingers!" Yarne called after her, gently rubbing his tender left eye. He knew his caution of Kinley had been completely warranted! "Hey, wait up! Don't leave me back here all alone, I'll die!" He was about to run to catch up with Kinley when the irritating feeling of something small tickling his foot made him reach down to scratch it… and he came face to face with the ugliest, deadliest, and most horrifying scorpion he had ever seen.

He blinked.

It hissed at him.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Oh what now-oof!" was all Kinley had the chance to say before Yarne barreled into her and frantically scrambled up her back, desperate to be away from all of the terrible monstrosities of the world that were put on the planet for the sole purpose of maiming him and causing failure in his most fragile of bunny hearts. "OW! Yarne! Hey, that's my hair you're pulling! What in the world are you doing?! Get off my shoulders!"

"Butthere'samonsteroverthereanditwantstoeatme!" he spit out, yanking his long ears over his eyes to hide from the EVIL. "Kill it! KILL IT!"

Comfortably atop Kinley's shoulders and far, far away from anything dangerous and evil, Yarne hid behind the darkness of his ears and could almost pretend that all was right with the world. Behind his ears was actually a very nice place to be, he discovered, since there couldn't possibly be anything frightening or deadly _there_, oh no. They were so soft and velvety, and the darkness they provided was the most beautiful color, why, he couldn't see what reason there would be to ever leave! Although, the rumbling felt from Kinley's yelling he could do without.

Warm and nimble fingers wrapped around his feet that were perched precariously over Kinley's shoulders, and for a terrifying second he thought they were going to hurl him off. His fears were unfounded, however, when instead her fingers tightened their grip to aid him in his magnificent balancing act. Beneath him, she sighed and shook her head. "You seriously have some superb balance, you must realize. You are essentially _squatting_ upon my _shoulders_."

His fear-closed throat allowed him only to nod in response.

Another sigh leaked from the tactician. "You also must realize that, in all probability, you outweigh me by more than fifty pounds?"

"Sorry…" he whimpered between jagged breaths of fear.

"You're just lucky I'm so strong and magical. Ah, well, I assume this means you like me an awful lot if you consider my shoulders a safe place to be. Though I do have to admit gravity certainly appears to be against this new relationship of ours… your big furry crotch is on my head, too. Readjust a bit?" When Yarne complied by shifting from the balls to the flat of his feet she laughed and patted his foot. "That's better. Now what is it that has me acting the role of your dashing and courageous knight in shining armor?"

Removing one arm from holding its respective ear in its newfound home in front of his face, he pointed a trembling finger in what he supposed the general direction of the EVIL must be. Following his gesture, the tactician turned her head… and promptly began walking STRAIGHT TOWARDS THE EVIL. His ears flung back upwards and his eyes shot open. "What are you doing!?" he shrieked. "No! Other way! Turn around! You're delivering me for its dinner!"

"Calm down," she said. "It's just a scorpion."

They were five feet away from it. "Scorpions eat bunnies!"

"They do not."

Four feet.

His heart was pounding. "WAIT!"

Three feet.

He was going to faint! "I want off this ride!"

Two feet.

"Too bad, you're the one that got on it in the first place."

One foot away! Even if he wanted to, he couldn't jump off of Kinley's shoulders and run away because that meant the possibility of coming into contact with _another_ type of EVIL set on devouring him piece by piece. He couldn't breathe and his fingers were knotted in her hair, hanging on for his dear bunny life. Yarne was petrified!

He about passed out when Kinley crouched down in front of the scorpion, her head titling to observe as it went about its merry way, clicking and hissing while it teetered off in the dirt below. "Awh," she chirped at it. "You aren't so scary, are you? Why, you're kind of cute!"

And then the most horrendous and distressing thing Yarne could think of happened.

_She picked it up._

The end was nigh!

Between the ground teeming with thousands of equally troubling EVILS and the safety above Kinley's head was a black scorpion that wriggled in a most disturbing way. Yarne was trapped! He didn't dare risk getting any closer to the scorpion in her hands, and he didn't want to even _think_ of what else could be waiting for him if he chanced it and jumped off her shoulders to race away from this unspeakable horror. He was stuck! In midair! With nowhere to go!

Back behind the ears he went!

His balance didn't waver when Kinley rose to her feet, but the echoed vibrations of her back popping did startle him enough to make him jump inwardly. Grunting in displeasure, she jabbed his foot with her fingers. "Since you're clearly going to continue forcing me to ferry you around, would you mind rubbing that knot you're starting to cause in my neck?"

Too afraid of being forced away from his sanctuary to disobey, he poked a lone, wobbly finger at the base of her skull.

"You suck," was her only reply.

"You suck!" he squeaked, before he had the chance to think better of it. "Instead of killing it you picked it up! Throw it! Throw it now before it punctures our supple flesh with its despicable stinger of doom and we're sent spiraling into the dark descent of madness from the foul poison seeping leisurely into our BRAINS!"

"…You sure are creative when it comes to death." With a snort she began digging in her robe and Yarne peeked out from behind his ears and hands, his heart skipping a beat (or five) when she pulled out a glass jar. "Heave ho, Bunnyboy. I think I'm keeping it as a pet."

"WHAT!?"

"Yep," she said smugly, dumping the scorpion into the jar and securing the lid with a spin. "And I'm going to name it… Enray."

"That's my name spelled backwards!"

"Yep."

"You fiend! You horribly cruel, evil, vile, unbearably…" Kinley leant her head backwards to stare up at his face, her eyebrows raised in solemnity. "…wonderful, beautiful, lovely, and generously kind woman?"

"That's what I thought." The jar with the scorpion held tightly in one hand and with her other grasping Yarne's furry left foot, Kinley finally set off after the Shepherds, who were now very far off in the distance. Trapped on her shoulders, Yarne pouted and resigned himself to the long trip it would take to regroup with the rest of the soldiers. And it was getting darker now, too!

This whole ordeal was one he hoped never to relive.

A small snicker escaped from Kinley's throat as she studied the scorpion and he threaded his fingers through her hair again (which he, now that he was a tad less terrified, realized smelled quite nice), prepared for her to fling him off and leave him for dead in the desert at any moment. "How can you not think Enray is cute?" she tittered. "Just look at those little jabbers; they're perfect for maiming!"

He paled, sure the tactician was insinuating that she, in fact, _would_ be killing him in his sleep tonight, this time with the aid of their new friend.

The thought evaporated when the jar disappeared into one of her many pockets and she traded it for her arms' previous occupant: the overly large and ancient looking book that contained anything and everything about the Shepherds. Yarne didn't even remember her putting it away, and just how exactly did that huge book fit in her pockets?

He must have voiced the question without meaning to, because Kinley replied cheerfully. "A magician never reveals their secrets!"

"But you're not a magician," he pointed out, poking the top of her head.

Her nose scrunched up in disdain and she huffed melodramatically. "Close enough." Then she thumbed through the pages of her book and laughed vindictively. "Now," she said, "you can't escape me."

Inwardly, Yarne shuddered. "I wasn't planning on it."

The sun quietly dipped behind a far-away mountain as what little nightlife there was began to come out to play, and Yarne found himself grateful for Kinley's patience with him. He was _not_ a fan of the dark. The majority of terrible things happened during the night!

Below, a quill appeared in the tactician's hands. "So then, is pink your favorite color or not?" she asked while scribbling away in surprisingly neat handwriting.

An owl hooted from nearby and Yarne instinctively tightened his grip on Kinley's massive mop of hair. "No? Hey, do I have to be put in that book? It's weird!"

Kinley's brow furrowed. "Well thanks for calling my hobby strange, Mr. I'm Too Afraid Of The Ground To Walk Myself."

Guiltily, he grimaced. "Sorry."

Apology accepted, she waved the issue away. "You're one of the Shepherds now, right? One of us?"

He nodded. "I guess so."

A finger tapped her chin wistfully, and Yarne noticed she seemed to have a habit of tapping things. "You either are or you aren't, and I happen to think you are, so in the book you go." She ceased her tapping and smiled. "You may be afraid of a lot, Yarne, but I saw the way you fought to protect your friends last week during the ambush in the mountains. You're brave when you need to be, and that's all that matters."

Taken aback, he blushed vividly and was grateful that Kinley would not be able to see it.

"And yes," she continued, patting his foot encouragingly with one hand, "I can tell you're blushing by how you're suddenly ripping my hair out of its follicles."

Damn.

"Orange!" he yelped decidedly from his perch. "Orange is my favorite color."

Nodding, she removed her hand from his foot and her scribbling resumed its course. "Like carrots?"

Yarne laughed. "You already know me so well!"

"Well I _have_ been watching your every movement…"

"Oh, good! That means I don't have to worry as much about being stabbed from behind."

Kinley shrugged. "Unless it's my fork. You should always be wary of my forks."

He couldn't tell whether or not she was joking.

Not much further up ahead, the Shepherds had decided to make camp and were now spreading out to assemble what would be their homes for the night. Small tents were being erected and fires were lit while the more proficient hunters set off in hopes of returning with a protein or two, though in this climate it wouldn't be likely. Yarne willingly answered all of Kinley's questions for the remainder of their walk and a whole page on Yarne's favorite things was soon filled. He wondered aloud if it would ever be read once it was archived in the Ylissean palace's library.

"Who knows," Kinley replied as she closed the book and tucked it away in the depths of her robe once more. Her hands returned to grip his feet, and when she rubbed the small tufts of fur there appreciatively she sighed. "You're so warm and fuzzy. You must make one hell of a cuddle-buddy."

Well, he was definitely feeling warm and fuzzy now.

When they reached the edge of camp Yarne was expecting her to dump him off right there and was surprised when she kept heading towards the center, waving happily at a patrolling Gaius nearby. The assassin raised an eyebrow and returned the wave sluggishly before pulling out an excessively large lollipop to munch on and continued on his route. Many of the Shepherds Kinley and Yarne passed had a laugh at their strange position, greeting them with an awkward smile and no small amount of confusion, but Kinley merely shrugged as if carrying Yarne on her shoulders was an everyday occurrence. Yarne was slightly embarrassed to be stared at so much.

But never being one to pass up a chance to poke his own personal sleeping bear, however, he grinned like an idiot when his friend Severa caught sight of them from beside a tent and she did a double take. The pigtailed soldier gaped at Yarne, giving him one of her signature, "You've got to be kidding me" scowls, and he took the opportunity to further aggravate her by sticking his tongue out facetiously. As expected, her features darkened and her face colored.

Hmm, he was probably going to pay for that one later.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey! Where ya been ya big ol' furball?" Brady, apparently haven forgotten his earlier humiliation, called out from beside the roaring fire in the center of camp. His expression was one of puzzlement when he saw that Yarne was lounging comfortably atop Kinley's shoulders. "And, uh, why are you riding on Kinley?"

"He almost died," Kinley answered simply.

On the opposite side of the crackling fire stood Laurent, who was busy feeding it the gathered tinder. He kept to his task but his eyes looked up at the conversation. "If we're going by statistics," he said dryly, "then that would have been the seventy-third time he 'almost died' today. Near death experience number seventy-four should be approaching in anywhere from forty minutes to one hour."

Brady regarded him blankly. "You keep track of all that?"

Laurent adjusted his glasses. "Of course. Don't you?"

"Uh, not exactly."

Kinley sighed at the exchange and tapped Yarne's feet. "Final stop, Bunnyboy. Ride ends here."

Excruciatingly wary of the scorpion hidden inside her robe, he carefully bounced off of Kinley and into a section of dirt that he'd made sure to assess for any dangers beforehand. It wasn't until he was no longer sharing her body heat that he realized how cool the air had become, and he shivered somewhat at the sudden change of temperature. "Thanks for the ride," he said sheepishly, setting his pack on the ground and wrapping his arms around himself.

The tactician yawned widely and stretched, popping her neck loudly in the process. "Any time. But now you owe me a biiiiiig backrub! Because, holy hells, I am one stiff monkey."

He had to laugh at her choice of words. "Do I have to give you all my lunch money too?"

"Obviously." She yawned a second time and moved to ruffle his hair affectionately. His friends were probably going to think something _very_ significant had transpired between the two, after seeing this. Great, more teasing! A mischievous smirk touched Kinley's lips and she reached into her pockets.

Screeching, Yarne fled and took cover behind an extremely annoyed Brady, who protested loudly when Yarne latched onto his leg with all the suction of an octopus.

Out came the jar that contained the essence of evil itself and Kinley held it up victoriously. "Don't forget about Enray! Wait a minute, oh dear. This is no good; he appears to have escaped somehow…"

Only one thought flitted through Yarne's mind: "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

A sad pout fixed her features as she examined the jar up close. "Awh," she whined, before tucking the jar back into a different pocket. Then she held her hands behind her back and lightly bounced on the balls of her feet. "Well, keep an eye out for him, will you? Poor little Enray. He's probably gotten lost around camp somewhere... And don't forget, Yarne, we've still got your biography to finish. See you all later!"

A frozen Yarne remained huddled behind Brady, much to the sage's dismay, long after Kinley walked off to report for duty.

"What the hell was that?" Brady asked while trying to pry Yarne from his leg. The Taguel's grip refused to lessen.

"You are very strange, Yarne," Laurent added, no longer stoking the fire and now standing with a small book in his arms.

The battle for his leg quickly being lost, Brady gave up and flopped to the ground, sitting with his cheek resting on his fist and the leg with a whimpering Yarne attached sprawled out. "I knew you had a secret relationship goin' on, don't understand why you'd hide it from me," Brady grumbled, clearly offended. He tossed a branch into the fire.

"I do not!"

"Mhmm." Across the fire, the studious Laurent began jotting down some notes in the book he held. Was Yarne the only one in the entire army who didn't have a personal notebook? Sheesh.

"'Mhmm' what?" Yarne snapped at him.

The sorcerer didn't even glance up from his notes when he responded, "This is very interesting."

His grip still firmly around Brady's leg, Yarne rolled his eyes. "I am not a study case for you, you know!"

"Oh, but on the contrary. With you being the last of an entire species, and I a philosopher of sorts, I am obligated to take note of every action you take, whether it have a positive or a negative outcome. It is beneficial to all for my study to come to full fruition and-"

"Wait, is that little book you're always writing in all on me?!"

His writing halted, Laurent shifted his gaze from side to side, looking as if he thought he might have said too much. "The statistics tell me that if I am truthful I am likely to be physically assaulted, and that if I am untruthful I am also likely to be physically assaulted. So, in light of such recent discoveries and faultless science for it to fall back on, I am going to answer your heated query with a 'possibly.'"

Both Brady and Yarne stared at him, dumbfounded.

"What?"

"Right… So what did ya do out there anyway?" Turning to look down at Yarne, Brady changed the subject and threw more wood at the growing fire.

Yarne shrugged as much as one could shrug when clinging to someone else's leg and laying in the dirt. "I almost died," he answered as simply as Kinley had.

It was Brady's turn to roll his eyes. "Man, you get so many more girls than me. It's gotta be cause yer all furry and cute-like."

"I do not! And besides, your legs are hairy," Yarne offered, his face full of leg hair.

"That don't count!"

It was at that precise moment that a very bright, and very deadly, ember floated lazily out of the fire to land directly on one of Yarne's delicate velvet ears, lighting it afire and promptly initiating a full-on panic attack in the unsuspecting Taguel.

Howling, he leaped up off of Brady's leg and scurried around in circles, screaming, "I'm on fire, I'm on fire, I'm on fire!" but not doing much about it. The fire on his ear didn't become contained until Brady snatched up a nearby cloth and yanked Yarne back by the ear that wasn't currently on fire, threw him to the ground, and firmly wrapped the cloth around the flaming ear, effectively squelching it out. A hyperventilating Yarne stayed put with his face in the dirt while Brady grabbed his staff and set to work on healing the (now entirely bald) scorched skin, griping about the stupidity he was surrounded by on a daily basis.

This had not been one of Yarne's finer days.

When his ear was completely healed, Yarne nervously moved his hand up to touch it before being swatted away by Brady's own.

"Just because it's healed don't mean it ain't sensitive," the sage said as he sat beside him. "And you can still get germs and such stuck in it."

He'd almost lost his ear! His furry, beautiful ears! Oh when his mother heard about this… He sat up straight, feeling rather depressed at his latest stroke of luck, and moped. The sound of a quill on paper brought his gaze up to Laurent, who was in the process of furiously scrawling down more notes.

Laurent snapped his book shut and stored the quill within the binding, finding, once again, both Yarne and Brady staring over at him with exasperated looks. "It seems," he offered as explanation, "that my near death experience estimate was off."

"Whatever." Yarne crossed his arms and resumed his moping.

An elbow to his side forced him to look up, though he kept his sour-face intact. "C'mon, put that sad face of yers away," Brady said. "There's more'n enough of those goin' around. Don't need you joining in on it."

"That is indeed true," Laurent chimed in. He took the hint when Yarne fixed him with a death glare. "I suppose I'll be going then."

Together Brady and Yarne watched him head off, more than likely going to find Nah somewhere in the camp. With the activity of set-up dying down, the camp had become almost eerily quiet with most of the Shepherds taking refuge in their respective tents. It had been a long day of journey for the lot of them, and being a soldier with the constant threat of ambush at any time meant you took any amount of sleep when you could get it.

Yarne wasn't tired though. There was a nagging feeling of some thought fluttering through his mind, one that he couldn't seem to remember, and every time he would try to catch it it would evade him and fly off laughing. It was frustrating him to no end.

"Heh heh." Brady's suspicious laughter was, well, suspicious. There was a small rock on the ground near Yarne's feet and he picked it up to pitch it at Brady's forehead, feeling tremendously satisfied with the loud 'thunk!'it made.

"What are you laughing about now?" he asked as he moved his knees to his chest, arms wrapping around and resting his chin upon them.

Beside him Brady rubbed the indent the rock had left and sulked. "Not this forming lump on my head, that's fer sure."

"No way."

"Totally."

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, stoking the fire when needed (Brady, mostly. Yarne was still too afraid to go near it) before Brady yawned and covered his drooping eyelids with his hand. A coyote howled from nearby, causing Yarne to cringe nervously.

"You know," Brady began, fingering the scar on his cheek, "I don't get it."

"Get what?"

There was a boorish and suggestive gleam to the sage's eyes. "Why were you riding her anyways?"

For the third time tonight Yarne rolled his eyes. He had an idea where this was going…

"Ain't it s'posed to be _her_ riding _you_?"

Blue comedy, to be sure.

While Brady was busy laughing his ass off at his own dirty joke, and after Yarne shoved his perverted friend and told him none too kindly to shut up, Yarne was sifting his bare toes through the dirt and thinking about his afternoon. Kinley was nothing like he at first thought she would be, and he was truthfully very pleasantly surprised.

Today, he felt, he had formed a new friendship.

And that was nice. Friends were a necessity in times of war and hardship, because you could lean on friends when you needed to and they would help pick you up and put you back on your feet. Everyone needed friends, but Yarne was especially happy that Kinley had chosen to be one of his. She was a good person, kind and trusting, and she never lost hope even in the darkest moments. Maybe she _was_ a little devious and had a sick sense of humor, but everyone had their own little quirks, didn't they?

And if he was going to be honest with himself, he was really looking forward the time spent finishing out his pages in that book of hers. He didn't think he would be keeping count of his encounters with Kinley anymore.

Brady poked him with a stick. "What are you smiling at, Furball?"

"I'm not smiling. That's my face."

"Then you have one seriously happy face, you dumb rabbit."

"Totally."


End file.
